I am actually writing this blog to you via word document. Why? Because my internet in my room is all sorts of screwed up. It’s saying I’m “quarantined,” whatever the bananas that’s supposed to mean.
Do I sound a little bit irritated to you? I’m very much ready for this semester to be over. This has been such a wonderful semester on so many levels, but at the same time, I’m ready for it to be over so I can go home (which is another topic we’ll discuss later).
Well, I don’t know if I’ve told you much about my roommate. I’d look, but I can’t get on the internet. So anyway, my roommate. We’ll call her S. So S is fresh out of high school—should still be there, technically. And I technically shouldn’t even be her roommate since I’m an honors student, but oh well, I submitted to the powers that be. She was graduating early, she had to be responsible, right?
So she comes out here and every other word out of her mouth is her boyfriend’s name, we’ll call him B. I knew she was wild about him from talking to her on facebook, but this was ridiculous. But she was never in the room, she was always with B, so we got along quite well because I could get my work done (oh, and she goes home every weekend—thank you Jesus!)
So like a month after school starts, S and B break up. Ok, so I’m trying to be there for her, listen, all that jazz. It works for a little while, and then she just starts getting annoying. I asked her at the beginning of the semester to listen to her music in headphones when I’m in the room.
She was ok with that for like, a week.
I asked her then, if she was going to have her music playing, to please let it be Christian music.
She was ok with that for like, a week.
One time she was listening to a song that was so vulgar that I went out and sat in the hallway until it was over. Of course, this happened to be right after I got out of the shower. Nothing is more awkward than standing half dressed in your hallway while your roommate listens to a vulgar song “because I know it’ll be over in three minutes and it’s not worth the effort of turning it off.” Right, ok. I know I’m lusting over this guy in this movie, but in three hours it’ll be over and it’s too much effort to pick a new movie. That logic can get you into tons of dangerous places.
She swore up and down she didn’t come to college for B. But as soon as they broke up, talk of different colleges was all she could think about. Mmmyep, your actions betray your words. I feel like this was a puppy dog move to come to this school.
Like I said, she should still be in high school. And you can tell. She’s can be pretty self-absorbed and inconsiderate. I often want to be like YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY PERSON LIVING IN THIS ROOM!!!
She yelling with her friends at 1AM, blaring music when we should be studying, talking all the time, whether it’s on the phone or to a friend in the room…I swear, I’m not even in my room when she’s home because I can’t get a thing done. It’s so frustrating and ridiculous. Courtesy, anyone? Many many times I have come in and acted like I need to get things done and she has no regard for anything. I’ll be doing homework and she’ll come in and be like “I’m going to bed.” And it’s like oh, ok, I’ll go find somewhere else to do this besides MY OWN ROOM. Or like the other night, I came in after my shower and got my pajamas on, and not once, “oh, are you going to bed?” nothing. Good thing I was planning to do homework, but eventually her and her little friend left anyway and went to the lobby. So just completely. AHH! And like, when I got a fan (because she was complaining about it being hot, so of course, it’s my job to make her comfortable…I had planned on getting one anyway, but the nerve!) she decided to point it at herself. Like really? Oscillate. I didn’t put it on my side of the room for it to blow on you. I put it there because there’s no room on the other half because your junk is everywhere.
Speaking of junk, when she’s gone I enjoy pulling the desk out from under my bed so I can see out the windows. One of her little friends told her our room was a mess. What? I’m sorry, books everywhere is what it looks like when you actually study! So she’s all sounding pretty annoyed that our room is a “mess” when she texts me on Monday, and I’m like no. it’s disorganized but not a mess. So then she comes home and takes her clothes off and leaves them everywhere. And you were worried about me being messy?
The thing that irritates me the most about not just her but other people here is that they only talk to you when they need your help with school. She’ll sleep through class and expect me to tell her what happened. Uh, no. sorry, if you want to know, you wake yourself up and you get there. I can’t count the number of times she’s complained to me about being tired when she’s gone to bed before me and woken up far after. Grow up.
So since she’s been in here so much, I’ve been forced to not be, which has made me so distant from my floor girls and absolutely rips my heart out. I want so much to be able to study but to be able to be a part of floor goofiness when I hear it happening, and she robbed me of that chance all semester. I think that’s what has me irritated the most. It’s like a giant wedge between me and my girls because she and hers are in my room so much. Next year I’m getting a single room, and I couldn’t be more excited :)
So as I mentioned before, I’m ready to go home. Thursday night some stupid girls from another floor decided it would be fun to put mayo on our toilets, and this morning they put honey on our door knobs. Really? We’re in middle school now? We watch movies and run around screaming through the dorm at 1AM on a school night instead of study? Glad to know where your priorities lie. Oh, yeah, and last night I went out to talk with Tyler for a little while and left my door cracked (I trust my floor), and those same stupid girls from another floor decided to go in and out of my room. Really? I love my floor girls for laying down the law with them and locking my door. I’m ready to get out of this environment.
But then I’m going home. Home doesn’t really even feel like home anymore. I always find myself saying “I want to go home” but not truly knowing where that is. When I’m saying home, I mean a feeling of home. A feeling of security and freedom to be myself and just be happy. That wasn’t really what my home was like when I left it, I’m not saying I don’t love my family, but I just felt a lot of pressure to be a certain way or to achieve certain things and a very overwhelming parental parent-ness that I’m not very excited to go back to. We’ll see, maybe they’ll treat me like an adult now. Part of me thinks that’s why I want to work, so that if I’m dating and working and living on my own 9 months of the year maybe they’ll finally stop treating me like a child. I know they don’t mean to do it, and that they just love me, and I dearly love them as well. I just really hope that constraining dynamic of our relationship will be gone when I go home.
I’m also struggling with if I want to even stay in honors. I love the teacher as a man, but his classes are completely wrong for this school, I’ll just say it. He teaches at a doctorate level, and none of us understand what he’s talking about. But, see, the option is to take classes with him or with a teacher that doesn’t even hardly teach you anything. It weighs heavy on my heart to know I have to sit through three more classes with this man, but what options do I have?
Now that I’ve shared everything that’s been making me miserable, how about we talk about the good stuff.
I’m getting a single room next semester. I get to stay on first floor with my girls. I got accepted to be a tutor for the school, which means I’ll be adding to my income instead of just spending it (which will be a huge load off me).
This semester has been such a wonderful time of learning. One teacher that originally was driving me crazy ended up being one of my favorites because he’s more about the application and challenging our lives than just pumping through information. My Acts teacher is one of the cutest old men I’ve ever met and he is SO smart. I love getting to class early and talking to him. My Restoration History teacher is also an adorable old man who knows stories about like, everyone he talked about in the class, like personal stories. It was adorable. And when he talks about bambi and wears a baseball cap?! Ahhh! So cute.
Have you ever just looked at a group of people and realized you don’t really fit in with them? I did that at brunch today while I ate alone. None of my friends were there, and looking around, none of those other people I really even…could fit in with. I’ve often wondered if that means that I should change. Should I study less? Should I be ok to run around screaming at 1AM and pranking people all the time? Should I not care about school and goof off? I can’t see how that would be beneficial to me in my life, or how that would bring glory to God, or how that would even remotely be a good idea. Should I be crazier and more flamboyant to make people laugh more? That’s just not who I am. I often feel inadequate when I’m in a group of people. I feel like the outsider who’s just kind of there. There are some groups here that don’t make me feel that way—the guys and most of my girls, and I just love being with them. There’s a couple of girls that I feel like I’m never good enough for, as well as one of their boyfriends. I don’t know, my audrie and her boyfriend just make me gah whenever I see them lol. They’re really good for each other, and they really like each other, but I don’t know. Something in me just gets all twisted up. I feel like it’s more because I have such a hard time with than her than anything else. But I’m not supposed to be her. She was made for a different purpose.
Anyway, I need to get ready for finals week. Lots to do. I just had to spill my heart. I’ve discovered I process things through writing more than talking, which is something I’m going to have to get better at, but I really just needed to get all of this off my chest. It felt really good to work through everything I’ve been feeling this semester. Thanks for being here, blog.